#from the notebook

[ikemenomegas]

Levi decides he wants a baby. He doesn't have an alpha, but this is the modern era. Who needs an alpha to have a baby...

But the thought of a total stranger siring his child doesn't satisfy him either. After a year of thinking it over, he finally brings it up in front of his friends and someone recommends

You

Deeply suspicious of an alpha "chill" enough to simply stud for free, and recommended by his friends no less, he accepts an invitation to a group gathering where he spends the whole time not so subtly eyeing you and then pretending not to.

And when you finally get the opportunity to talk to him, you're so offensively nice, Levi has to hold himself back from ruining the encounter

But you can tell he has something on his mind. He doesn't tell you, but your receptiveness, laughing at his clumsy attempts at humor, it all lower his guard.

So when he finally meets you, formally, at a cafe with plenty of private space for you to talk, it's just a tiny bit less awkward.

He reminds himself that he doesn't even need your body. He just needs you to agree.

And he's so frustrated, because you don't. You want to "get to know him", whatever that means. And he knows it's reasonable. He does. But he's waited for so long. He's not getting any younger. And he's waited so long to bring it up and it cannot be so easy yet so impossible.

And again, you're so patient with him, with this frustration so deep that it nearly brings tears to his eyes.

Levi has spent his life carving space in the world for himself, surviving things that aren't so hard for other people, and it's painful, knowing that this thing is so important, that he can't just do this himself.

But you meet again. He wonders, mutinously, which of his acquaintances (...friends, temporarily downgraded) has turned rat on him to make you so nice, kind, patient, attentive, interested. In him.

Yet somehow, before he knows it, you've gone six months. Somehow, it's nothing like he'd expected.

"My answer is yes," you said, in a gap between conversation, cupping a lavender latte, a travesty but so far his only complaint today, between your palms. "But..." you hesitated, but then your resolve seemed to crystalize before his eyes, "I'd like to be involved. With the baby. If you'll let me, if you're open to it."

Levi knows his eyes go wide, and he knows he all but flinches, because he's never even imagined you asking this, never imagined asking you. That's not what this is. You're a donor, a practical stranger. That's what he keeps telling himself rather than wonder if he's just someone you humor on the weekends or odd weekday morning, rather than wonder if he'd rather you actually spend a few nights with him, instead of going through the procedure Hange had told him about, rather than wonder if the kid's going to have your eyes or your smile or your way of folding a napkin with perfect corners after a meal.

His heart is pounding and you look obviously worried, like you've gone too far. It's just...

"A baby is a lot of work," you say, waving your hands like you're showing him you're not a threat. Your scent turns placating, when did he start being able to scent you even under the scent patches? "Even with your family helping. And even if we're not mated, I've been doing research. They say having the donor alpha offer pheromones can help your recovery, and if the kid is omega or alpha, it helps them bond stably." You're babbling. This is surely not what he wants.

"You know what, never mind. I'm sorry. I know you value your privacy, and you won't need another person intruding on your space after the birth. It was wildly out of line for me to--"

"Can I think about it?" he chokes out before you can rescind the offer. "If you, if I, shit," he curses, his cheeks are flushed, but he's cold, but he's not scared. It's just unexpected.

You relax, but he can still see that you're uneasy. He's so stupidly grateful when you nod though and he wonders if you can scent him too, if you can taste it wafting faintly from his neck, that relief.

Neither of you manage to stomach anything more than another tea, and your smile is as weak as his joke about the second latte you order. When you turn your wrist, he can see the rapid flutter of the pulse there and he knows your heart is hammering. He blames it on the caffeine.

You give him space, although you continue to text him regularly. He's stupidly grateful that your texts are normal, even though he appreciates the effort it must take to pretend - because he knows you, and he feels the same way. It takes effort to reply, but he does, because he doesn't want you to think that he wants this to be over.

He's not running away. He's just thinking.

Erwin is no help, happily mated as he is, but he is comforting and encouraging, and being around Erwin's two-year-old, which is really not as bad as people say it is, helps.

Seeing Erwin's alpha doing the normal childcare things Levi has seen a hundred times and thought nothing of helps too.

Hange is clinical and excited about it, spouting unhelpful statistics about post-partum alpha-omega bonds, even between unmated pairs, and mentions studies done with surrogate couples. That makes Levi flush, briefly imagining he's having your baby and not his own, something he quickly shakes off.

Mikasa is surprisingly, or maybe not so surprisingly, level headed about the whole thing. The only thing she's never normal about has been her own mate anyways.

And she asks him the question everyone else may have also been asking, but he hadn't heard.

"What do you want?"

And then he gets to sourly sit through dinner where Mikasa looks at Eren like she wants to literally eat him, like down to the bone, and he excuses himself, wondering how long it will take until he's soft and sluggish, until he can't move so fast that Eren can't tell when he's moved.

Then he sits in his house for a week. He asks you not to call, not to text. To give him time. And you do, and he hopes that you hate it, at least just a little.

At the end of that week, he can't eat in the morning. He turns his phone over and over in his hand before he takes a deep breath, feeling like he's going to throw up.

And then he calls you.

[savedbythefall]

I hope when I tell people ‘I love you’ it never loses its meaning. I hope when I tell my friends over and over again that I love them it never wears down the truth behind it. i hope that every time I tell somebody I love them they know exactly how I feel. I look at you and I say I love you and I feel so full of it that I could fall apart, soft words that break and crumble into the crumbs that dust your skirt, that linger with you until you pull me off and dust me to the ground. I hope when I say ‘I love you’ you can feel how my heart swells and bursts, a modern cupid making a mark with an arrow or maybe something more jagged. I hope it makes you happy

[pealeii]

chewing on nokomitsu like a pupper chews on a squeaky toy

[polaroidsandthoughts]

Trying the simple things. (White/Blue)

[solacium]

3 sentence fic (december '23)

a little thing i haven't felt like plonking on ao3. written for ficwip's monthly 3 sentence fic exercise.

for prompt: a sudden or unplanned reunion

fandom: honkai star rail relationship: argenti/caelus word count: 148 rating: G summary: caelus has a cruuuuush

–-

Caelus fiddles the corner of a page between his fingers, rereading the same line for the fifth time, before giving up — he stares out at the ever-changing starscape through the window, idly wonders about the stranger — friend? — whose acquaintance they had made several weeks before, and what he might say — about it, or perhaps about anything at all, really — Caelus would have settled for listening to him expound the virtues of the driest book in the data bank — if it meant that he might run into him again.

Someone settles in the seat next to him and he starts out of his thoughts, opens his mouth to say something smart, only to be met with the iridescent eyes he would never dare admit he'd been dreaming of, and finds himself at a loss for words.

"I'll say," Argenti says, smiling, "To see you again is an unparalleled delight."

[thenotebookwizard]

Notes from Driver's Ed

From the Notebook posts are things that I wrote in my notebook and decided to share with you. You're welcome. And I'm sorry. (No. No, I'm really not.)

In late 2023, I took Driver's Ed. Gotta get those insurance rates down.

I took notes. Just - not the notes the people who wrote the class probably wanted me to take.

Seriously. Who has time to to delay leaving, leave early, etc

Not talking to friends in the car? Rude. And not going to happen.

...control the actions of passengers, children, pets? Have you met the people I know? Control them? What the fuck, class. What the fuck.

Also have you met dogs?

Passengers are serious distraction. Sure.

Keep children 'occupied' with a 'quiet activity' - do you know kids? Like, at all?

Don't groom yourself. Who does that while driving? (If you know the answer to that question, are the answer to that question, or want to be the answer to that question, please don't tell me. Ignorance is bliss.)

Be careful of high profile vehicles height - including in your own garage. Umm...if it doesn't fit in my garage, and I can't figure that out, I have bigger problems than this class can solve.

How many times has this happened to be included in this class?

Animals needs to predict what I'm going to do when driving? That's - a thought, right there.

Elk and moose? In a Texas driving class? Have you been to Texas? Where are the note about coyotes, wild boar, rattlesnakes, and rednecks? (Esp. Drunk Rednecks.)

Don't drive tired. Sick. Sore. Sleepy. Frustrated. Grumpy. Etc. What the fuck kind of world are these people living in?

I am old enough I am now in the 'not as likely to die' category of men. I am not yet old enough to be in the 'more likely to cause an accident' age range. The sweet spot! Finally!

Replace your mirrors with better mirrors. Who has money for that? I'm taking this class to save money every month on insurance. Because I'm poor.

'Active scanning' Bitch, if I had sensors, I would be a lot safer about driving. What is this, Star Trek: The Next Highway?

Don't wear sunglasses at night? I was raised in the 80s. This is my birthright.

Dirty headlights may cut the amount of light - this sounds like a good plan to me. Have you *seen* (been blinded by) the power of some of these headlights at night? For fuck's sake, you want to see, not blind the other drivers for some kind of tactical raid.

Don't smoke while you drive? Back when I smoked, it was much safer for the other drivers if I did smoke while I drive. Trust me.

Don't drink and drive. By now, if you don't know this - oh. Wait. I live in Texas.

Host? When I host? When I host what? I don't get invited to parties. I don't host parties. I don't mix drinks for people. Yet again, public safety information directed at extroverts. Correlation? Extroverts are scary. I already knew that.

Chocolate is included with caffeine, cocaine, and nicotine? Whoo, boy. Y'all playin' with fire, there.

Write down make, model, license plate info of dangerous drivers? While I'm driving? ...um, no.

Circadian rhythm = not everyone is diurnal or a morning person, you fucking morons. Morning person bias needs to stop.

Control your emotions. Use a technique called 'emotional regulation' - what the fuck, people? (What about mental illness. Also: have you *met* people recently?)

You want me to drive unmedicated? Look, there are *some* people you *want* to be fully drugged up before they get on the road. *Trust me.* (Example the first: My mother, god rest her soul.)

Don't use hand signals to direct other traffic? This is Texas. People will be telling each other to go first until time ends.

If you get bored, practice 'what if' driving scenarios? Really? Because *that* won't cause anxiety. Not one bit.

[lilithkundalini]

blue by @polaroidsandthoughts

[brigitoshaughnessy]

From the Notebook: The Others Ch 1

One Year Ago 

“Sam!” Jack called out to her in vain from the ramp of the Stargate. Damn that stubborn woman, he thought as an orange flash and smoke filled the briefing room above. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. She was supposed to come with him to the Beta Site. They needed her. He needed her. He was running out of time, and he might miss his window of opportunity, but did that really matter? He didn’t want to go if it was without her. 

Running at top speed from the gate up the stairs, he ducked low to stay under the smoke. She lay on the floor near the door, the grenade having put all of them on the ground. 

“Sam, baby,” he whispered to her, checking for a pulse. Her eyes opened for a moment, and he turned her face toward him. Her blue eyes caught on his, and he knew. He wouldn’t be able to hold them for long. She was fading. Her pulse was weakening. 

“Jack...” she whispered, and he saw the corner of her mouth tilt up in pleasure. “You...” She didn’t get to finish her thought. Like so many other things lately, it was incomplete. Reaching for her hand, he took the ring he had given her from her left hand that was going to be cold soon. Time to go. Dropping a kiss on her lifeless forehead, he ran.  

Jack could hear the Jaffa pounding at the blast door. He didn’t have much time. With Sam’s ring in his hand, he ran, skipping the stairs and jumping over the banister. Not a moment too soon, he flew through the event horizon, leaving Earth for good. Leaving Sam for good. But she had left him too. 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------ 

Present Day 

  Samantha didn’t think that watching him walk through that mirror and out of her life would be easy, but she didn’t think it would be this hard either. He wasn’t her Jack, she reminded herself. He wasn’t her Jack who had impulsively asked her to have dinner with him for the first time after she had just given a five minute explanation of time dilation. He wasn’t her Jack who had seemed nervous when he picked her up for that dinner because of course she had said ‘yes.’ He wasn’t her Jack who had dropped her off after their first date and waited until she reached up to kiss him, but that first kiss could have fooled her.  

It was the same. He wasn’t the same, but the kiss was. Her Jack had been reserved too, cautiously waiting for her to make the first move, not wanting to overstep. The way his hands settled on her waist, holding her carefully as if she might break was just the way her Jack had held her on her front porch. The way he had let her set the pace, the way she could see that he still wanted more, the way his eyebrows shot up in surprise at how good it was, the way his hair felt like comfort under her fingers—it was all the same. It was the same as it had been in the beginning, but not the same as it was now... or had been last week. 

Her Jack hadn’t held onto his cautious, tentative approach very long. They had moved on from the uncertainty of that first date, first kiss, first everything to something more. But the similarities were uncanny, leaving her to wonder if she could have started over with him. Could this other Jack have stepped into her life in the way her Jack had? Could she have loved him the same way? Would she have wanted to love him the same way? Or would she have loved him just as much, but differently? But, it didn’t matter. He wasn’t hers. He belonged to Major Carter. 

She had seen her short-haired self in that mirror, as this new Jack turned to walk away. She didn’t look happy. She looked confused, blindsided, and a little sick. Guilt settled low in Samantha’s stomach as she realized what she had taken from Major Carter, but it was too late to give it back. Samantha turned away, unable to look at the pain in her alternate self. In an admission that made her none too proud, she realized she wouldn’t want to give it back. If Major Carter ever did figure out what she could have with her Colonel O’Neill, she wouldn’t have begrudged her this moment. She would understand.  

“So, what now?” Charlie asked, appearing in the doorway. Samantha was grateful. She may have lost everything and everyone, but she hadn’t. She hadn’t lost Charlie. Charlie Kawalsky had become like extended family when she and Jack had married.  

“We clean up, I guess,” she answered with her head not fully in the game yet. She was still thinking about her other self, hoping that Major Carter didn’t take too long to figure out what she could have if she wanted it. 

“You okay?” he asked, seeing the vacant expression on her face. At the uncharacteristically personal question, Samantha looked up, seeing Charlie for the first time in what felt like days. His constantly mischievous demeanor was gone, replaced by something resembling sincerity.  

“Only, I know it hasn’t been the easiest few weeks, and then to top it off...” he continued, but couldn’t say out loud what they were both thinking. Her deceased husband had reappeared in front of her eyes, and seemingly didn’t love her—at least, not in the way she needed him to. 

“I’ll be all right,” she answered honestly and casually hugged herself. Maybe Charlie wasn’t astute enough to realize what she hadn’t said. She wasn’t okay. But she would be. Charlie grew alert, as he seemed to look beyond her. 

“Uhh, Sam?” he asked pointing to the mirror behind her. Samantha turned and watched as the Quantum mirror flashed, and Jack appeared again, but in a different uniform. 

“Jack...” she whispered. “What are you doing back here?” She had just made her peace with him being not hers and going back to where he belonged. 

“Good question. Where’s here? Am I dead?” he asked, looking at the room around him and his hands in front of him, making sure they still worked. Someone who appeared to be Sam stood in front of him, looking as if she’d seen a ghost so maybe that was it. Discreetly, Jack pinched himself. Yep. That hurt. 

“No,” she claimed with a shake of her head. “You’re not. You came back.” 

“Back? From the dead?” 

“No, from... the other reality.” 

“I’ve been here before?” 

“Oh, my god. You’re not my Jack or... you’re not the other Jack either.” 

“Excuse me? I’m me,” he explained as if to a child, taking a few steps away from the mirror. 

“So, you don’t know about the quantum mirror or the Asgard or the fact that we were...” Sam continued. 

“Look, I don’t know who you are. I know you’re not Sam because I watched her die over a year ago. But since you look like her, I’m hoping you can answer some questions for me,” Jack assumed with a few more tentative steps toward the pair. 

“I’ll try.” 

“Why are you two alive? I swear to God, if the afterlife looks like the SGC, that’s gotta be the worst joke in the history of—” 

“You’re not dead. And neither are we,” Charlie piped up, giving Sam an assist. “You’re in an alternate reality.” 

“A who’sa whatsit?” Jack asked. 

“An alternate reality,” Sam picked up the explanation, knowing that Charlie had explained as much as he could. “At any given point in time, there are an infinite number of choices. According to Einstein’s theory of relativity, there are as many alternate realities as there are choices. The Quantum mirror that I assume you messed with has transported you to an alternate reality. An alternate reality where I’m still alive. And so is Charlie,” she gestured toward Kawalsky. 

“And me?” Jack pursued. 

“’Fraid not,” Charlie chimed in. 

“Nuts,” he concluded calmly. “So, who’s the ‘other’ Jack you were talking about?” 

“We met another you in a different alternate reality who sort of helped us out of a jam,” Sam answered with another glance toward the mirror. 

“Well, you’re welcome, I guess,” Jack offered graciously. 

“What are you doing here?” Charlie wanted to know. 

“No idea. I was putting on this... get-up,” Jack finished gesturing to his dress blues, “and I lost my balance, grabbed the mirror, and here the hell I am.” 

“Do you want to go back?” Samantha asked, knowing that his answer was inevitable. 

“Do I have a choice?” he asked. 

“Well...” Sam looked at Charlie. Charlie looked at Jack. Jack looked at Sam. “Yes? We’ll talk to Hammond, but you’re dead here so...” 

“No entropic cascade failure,” Kawalsky finished her thought. 

“Well, that’s a relief. I was worried about that,” Jack quipped. 

“Do you... would you want to stay here?” 

“Uhh,” Jack looked around the SGC, and back at the mirror thinking of what he been about to do a few moments ago. “Yeah, maybe. I think so.” Maybe this was the second chance he needed. 

[toyogamii]

“yuuji stop that,” sukuna growls at the toddler, swatting his chubby hands away from trying to rip open the candy bag, laying on the bottom rack in the sweets aisle.

the little boy pouts and kicks his older brother in the leg sharply.

“you little-“

“excuse me, sir? i think your son dropped this.”

sukuna looks up, ready to snap about being bothered in the middle of his grocery trip when he sees you, holding yuuji’s little tiger plushy. every word is knocked from his head and his mouth drops open a little. you looked like an angel come to life.

“uh… thanks,” he mumbles after a slightly awkward pause, he grabs the toy from your hand and gives it to yuuji who squeals with delight.

“there you go brat… he’s not my kid by the way, just my little brother,” he’s not sure why he feels the need to clarify.

“aw,” you say, “he looks just like you, so adorable.”

you squat down and wave to yuuji who grins and waves back.

sukuna can feel his cheeks heat up slightly and he curses to himself.

“what was that?” you ask as you stand up. shit, you’re so fucking pretty. he doesn’t know how to handle himself.

“nothin’ can i uh, get your number or something?” he grumbles. you cock your head and laugh softly.

“you sound like you feel obligated to ask for my number.”

“yeah, yeah, just to find some way to thank you for finding it. if ya hadn’t I’m sure this brat woulda been hollerin’ the whole way home.”

you laugh and pull out your phone.

“here, i’m y/n, by the way.”

“sukuna,” he mumbles as he types his information in, then hands you his phone to do the same.

when you finally walk off he’s left staring at the little contact in his phone.

y/n :)

yeah… he’ll definitely be giving you a call.

pt. 2

[mxdam]

"Was there something you needed, Ma'am?" from Asteria @from-the-notebook

"You poor thing."

Caught staring, Margarethe simply has no choice: she moves closer, jostles against the other woman's side, lowers her voice.

"You've no clue, do you? Your skirt. There's simply an enormous tear on your..." She clears her throat politely. "Here. I'll step behind you..."

There is no such tear--yet--but the very useful thing about these bustles is that a lady cannot see behind herself, not without craning her neck and peering into mirrors and so forth; how is the other woman to know Margarethe's lie? The important thing, the most important thing, is to get her out of the room and away from Anastasia and Drisella. The creature shows them up merely by standing there, and Margarethe will have none of it: this is their time, their opportunity.

"I've a few things with me," she says, "a mother always comes prepared. Let's step away--somewhere quiet--and I'll pin it for you--shall I?" And if the tear, to be swiftly manufactured by her sewing scissors (always useful--truly, a mother does always come prepared) and worsened by her straight pins, is simply hopeless--why, the poor girl will have to go home, won't she?

[hyolks]

hey wait why are there only short people at this drive in

[ikemenomegas]

The first time Suguru and Shoko kiss, it's on a beach. The beach of a lake to be sure, but still a beach, sand between the grasses, cool breeze off the water, a patterned blanket on the shore.

You and Satoru have been talking, laughing quietly, lounging, distantly aware of Suguru and Shoko walking slowly where the water laps against their sandals.

And then Satoru looks up, half frozen, almost unsure. You're looking at him from the side, his glimmering lamplight eyes a little wide behind his sunglasses. You follow his gaze, and you think Suguru has done this on purpose, angling himself so he's basically three-quarters profile and Shoko's face is just hidden enough all you can read is her body language.

Suguru is taller than her, taller than almost everyone you meet, but Shoko doesn't lean back as Suguru tilts his head towards her, speaking softly. One hand is in his pocket and that's the only sign to you, from this distance, that he might be nervous, and you smile automatically, imagining him turning the lining out because it's sticking to his knuckles and ruining that carefully cultivated image of perfection.

You're sure Satoru hasn't moved and you haven't breathed, torn between an odd kind of jealousy and a vaguely energetic anticipation that reminds you of being seventeen again. You want Shoko to be happy. And... even though you've skirted the edge of this for years, will this make her happy?

You startle when Satoru grabs your hand, his fingers crushing the bones. "Ouch," you hiss out, involuntary, but also because you're pretty sure he's not aware he's doing this.

"Sorry," he mutters, but he doesn't release your hand, just crushes it somewhat more comfortably, the blanket bunched between the edges of your palms. You can feel the shifting coarseness of sand under the weave and his nails digging in between the gaps of your fingers. You'd glance down at his hand clasped so tight around yours but you don't want to miss the show, morbid and suspenseful as it is.

The way Satoru's fingers tug in so they're curled towards your palm almost tells you the same. It reminds you of the way you'd clung to one another the last time Suguru and Shoko played Resident Evil.

Shoko isn't the kind of person who chases after others. So it means something, that Suguru has finally come to her. He had been the one it seems to gather all of your disparate souls together and bundle you into one.

When Shoko tilts her head up in acceptance it is with the faintest visible smile as Suguru yields to her, half bowing. Your breath catches as she cups his elbow, the same arm apparently trapped by pride in his pocket.

There's little fanfare as their lips meet. Everything is entirely silent - they're too far away for any noise to make it this far without them shouting, and Satoru has stopped breathing too.

They pull apart, lips moving in words just between them, and when they kiss again, that's when you and Satoru start cheering nearly at once. Whooping and hollering and generally making a truly embarrassing amount of ruckus. Even without a lot of change in expression, Shoko looks exasperated, although Suguru finally fidgets enough to get a hand to wave with, his other still on Shoko's waist.

She allows it and that's enough to make something flip in your stomach like the fish that had evaded all of you earlier this morning. Things might be different from now on, things left unsaid finally spoken, all your orbits altering just a little, but she's letting that hand stay, and when they walk back and you meet her eyes, she tilts her head, like she's saying yes. All your threads tied together, all your tethers anchored as one.

Satoru practically tackles Suguru, although not hard enough for either of them to hit the ground and Shoko actually smiles even as the configuration of limbs and hands and attention tessellates.

Magic can spin something from nothing.

The tension in your forehead and jaw fade a little as she settles by your hip, practiced at getting out of the way of the other two's flailing limbs.

May this be the worst magic you ever know.

[savedbythefall]

i’m gonna be famous one day. am I positive about this? well, i’d like to be. my mom always said that it wasn’t good to be a pessimist. she called it ‘putting negative energy into the world’. i called it ‘having a safety net’. if you tell yourself, then it won’t hurt as much when someone says ‘told you so’. I hate being proven wrong. i’m gonna be famous one day, and i dont mean to be cocky, i just mean to be known. maybe i dont want to be known as much as they are, though. i’ll be someone’s hero, but not like superman. more like the girl that gives you the right advice when you’re thirteen. i’m the piano you forgot to practice in third grade and i’m the guitar collecting dust in the corner but you’ll remember me. you’ll remember me. universally loved, universally hated, i just want to be universally remembered. not in a taylor swift way just in a somebody that you used to know way. i’m your reflection in the mirror when you stop to take a breath. i’m your orange rose and your biggest regret. listen to your morals, listen to your mother, but when i fall asleep i see your eyes. taste the compliments that linger on my tongue and leave me lonely. i’m gonna be famous one day, and you’ll fucking remember me.

[pealeii]

The book section of the library

[polaroidsandthoughts]

from the archive

[sketchyfandomgirl]

Thinking of Ghost carting around a tiny notebook, it’s basically a keychain that hangs from his belt loop. The kicker? It’s cute. Like, uncharacteristically so, for a man like Ghost that is.

It’s fucking pink. With goddamn glitter and a cat on it. With a small, pink pen to match!

Everyone who’s seen the keychain all think they’re having a damn stroke seeing the stupid thing for the first time. It’s so small, like if was meant for a kid, so what the hell is a Lieutenant doing with a fucking keychain notebook?

The purpose is debated to this day. To keep track of all he kills in the field? Marking losses? Reminders for the future? Fucking journaling his feelings?? No one even know if Ghost ever uses it, but are well aware that the man is strangely protective of his notebook, like some sort of rabid dog. snapping at anyone who tries to take it, and god forbid someone touches it. At least they know he’s aware of the pink notebook.

But the real reason Ghost even has it? Why would he even carry such a dainty, childish thing like that? How could he even manage to write so small with such large, almost clumsy fingers?

It’s where he writes his jokes.

It’s his fucking personal joke book.